


Roses Are Red...

by DaltonG



Series: Ficlet Imbroglio [3]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Fandot Creativity, M/M, Pre-Slash, Skipthur, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:08:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4049107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaltonG/pseuds/DaltonG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Ficlet written for “Creativity Night” on Fandot chat, for the prompt: “Roses are red, violets are blue…”</p>
    </blockquote>





	Roses Are Red...

**Author's Note:**

> Ficlet written for “Creativity Night” on Fandot chat, for the prompt: “Roses are red, violets are blue…”

Martin sighed.  

Douglas double-checked their heading and took a sip of his coffee. Less burnt today; Arthur must have finally gotten over that thing he’d said about “belling the cat”. Really, he had only meant it in the kindest sense.

Martin sighed again. Douglas noticed the post-it note on the SCE-to-AUX switch (a yellow sticky with a big “NO” written on it because they kept bumping it by accident, and it made the cabin lights flash, which made the cabin passengers panic) flutter in the breeze of his heavy sigh.

The first officer scratched a bit behind his ear. This new anti-dandruff shampoo wasn’t doing his skin any favors.

“Hunnnnnnnnh,” Martin sighed.

“Martin.”

“Yes?”

“Is there something you want to say?”

“Noooo,” Martin said in a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Are you certain there isn't anything you want to say.”

“No, no, nothing at all, no, hnnnnnnn,” Martin said slowly, sighing.

“Only it is a certain holiday, one that might be troublesome to single people.”

“What, you mean like me, poor Martin who can’t get a date, is that it?” Martin snapped.

“I mean like to  _me_ , poor Douglas who got his divorce papers on the day before Valentine’s Day. The irony was off-by-one.”

Martin sighed, then belatedly muttered, “Sorry about your divorce, Douglas.”

“Thanks, Martin.”

There was a short conversational silence, backed by the comfortable rumble of G-ERTI’s engines.

“Hunnnnnh.”

“Martin, if you keep sighing like that, you’ll build up enough backwards-oriented momentum to cost us a gallon of fuel. Carolyn won’t like that.”

“I’m not sighing.”

“You are sighing so loudly they can hear it on the ground below.”

Douglas sipped his coffee again. At least Arthur had only put 5 sugars in this cup. Douglas still hoped to work him down to 2 someday.

“Have you told him?”

“What? No, NO, I haven’t told him, and you’re not going to tell him either.”

“No, I said I wouldn’t tell him as long as you  _did_  tell him.”

“You can’t tell him!”

“I said I wouldn’t tell him, as long as you  _did_  tell him by a certain deadline. And that deadline is here, is it not?”

“I just don’t know what to say to him. He’s so innocent…he can’t possibly think of me like that, and then he’ll be ever-so-nice and understanding and want to make me some tea and I just can’t face that, Douglas, I just can’t. It’s better that he never find out that I think of him in that…way.”

“No, he’s a grown adult, and you are a lonely adult, and it  _is_  better if he find out that you think of him in that  _way_ because just  _maybe_  he thinks of  _you_  in that way.”

“What? Did he say something to you? What did he say?”

Arthur burst into the cabin.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, flowers are sweet, and so are…What else is sweet, chaps?”

“Writing a poem, are we?”

“Yeah, mum said she wanted a card from me to her, and she wanted it hand-made, and she wanted it to say something lovely about how I feel about her. But that’s as far as I’ve got.”

“Flowers are ‘sweet’, Arthur?” Martin asked.

“Well, they  _smell_  sweet, don’t they?”

“I suppose.”

“Okay, so, 'Roses are red, violets are blue, flowers are sweet, and so are…’ What can I put there? What rhymes with 'blue’?”

“True, glue, stew, flew, rue?” Douglas suggested, with just the hint of a smirk.

“Due, crew, poo…oh no, don’t use that one.” Martin looked chagrined.

“Yeah, don’t think mum would like that too much, would she!”

“No, perhaps not.”

“Few, chew, loo…oh, that’s naughty, too. Oh! Too! 'Flowers are sweet, and so are too’…no, that doesn’t work. Poems are tough!” Arthur sighed and meandered back out of the cabin.

Martin sighed, but this time it was obviously a sigh of relief.

Douglas tsked. “That was the perfect opportunity.”

“No, it wasn’t. He’s writing a card for his  _mum_. That is the  _definition_  of innocence.”

“Or incest.”

“Ew.”

They were quiet again. Martin stared miserably out the windscreen at the sky. Douglas watched Martin from the corner of his eye, frustrated.

“Chaps, what do you think about–”

“Roses are red, violets are blue, Martin is sweet, he loves you too,” Douglas said loudly.

Arthur stared at him, stunned.

“Douglas! That was a secret!”

“Yes, yes, I know. 'I love Martin, but don’t tell him!’ 'I love Arthur, but don’t dare tell him!’ Honestly it’s like flying with kindergardners. Martin, meet Arthur. He is besotted with you. Arthur, meet Martin. He wants to be your lovey bunny. Discuss.”

Now Arthur stared at Martin, who was turned around in his captain’s chair, staring back.

It was Douglas’ turn to sigh. He pushed Arthur forwards with a hand on his back.

“Kiss!”

Arthur leaned down, and Martin leaned out, and very, very carefully, they barely brushed each other’s lips. Martin’s ears went vermillion. Arthur’s grin lit up the cockpit.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, you clots!” Douglas said, chuckling.

**Author's Note:**

> (Yes, the date of Douglas’ divorce papers is likely non-canon. Oh well.) 
> 
> Originally published on Tumblr on 14 Feb 2015; date set to match Tumblr publishing date.
> 
> Extra point if you catch the "Apollo 13" reference!


End file.
